Run
by crescented
Summary: "Come with me, Cersei. To the free cities, where we can be together without anyone wondering who we are. We can make children in place of Joffrey and Tommen, and regain whatever we've lost. The free cities, where no one knows us and we can be lovers, not brother and sister. Please, sweet sister. I beg of you, say yes." AU.


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything; I do not own Game of Thrones nor A Song of Ice and Fire.**

**This is my first Jaime x Cersei fanfiction, and my second fanfiction in total. Please be kind; constructive criticism is accepted. Please R&amp;R.**

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_She still remembers perfectly the day they had taken Tommen from her_. Her sweet; darling Tommen, her youngest child; taken right from her arms. She's heard tales from the marketplace, how they'd say that he was ripped right from his mother's bosom just like the infant Aegon Targaryen had been. How one Stannis Baratheon's men bashed his head into pieces like Gregor Clegane had done under the strict orders of her father. _An eye for an eye_, she'd thought. Most of the stories were close, but not true enough. She had been spared Elia Martell's fate, anyways. She had not been raped then killed just like Elia had been; instead she'd been saved by her twin, her own perfect reflection; her mirror.

Joffrey'd been killed, too. But the gods had had mercy upon her and made it so she would not have seen how he'd met his fate. She's heard tales about him, too: how he'd been found cowering inside his chambers, trapped and without protection for his personal guard, Sandor Clegane, had defied orders and left King's Landing without as much as a notice. Joffrey'd been tortured when they caught him: never mind being Stannis Baratheon's nephew for years. To Stannis, Joffrey had been a bastard born of incest and any relation they had shared had been forfeited by that simple fact. And a mere fortnight after the sack, he was executed in front of the whole population of King's Landing. Cersei swore she would have died if she was there to see it. _From heartbreak, pain, and grief_.

But Myrcella, her perfect; prim little daughter, had been saved. She had been well on her way to Dorne when it had happened. And thank the Seven Stannis had had mercy upon her and let her stay with the Martells instead of executing her like her brothers had been. And Dorne would not have let her go otherwise, because a betrothal was a betrothal; and Trystane Martell was said to have been smitten by her already. She's not heard of her in a long time, but it's said that she's to be married to her betrothed soon as her moonblood has come, and that's enough for them.

If not for Jaime, her head would have been on a spike along with Joffrey and the rest of the court, rotting. She recounts how he saved her from one of Stannis' men, and quickly told her to come with him to wherever. She'd barely had time to take jewels from her chambers for them to use and spend; but she managed, anyways. She'd also changed into a ragged handmaiden's dress, and a cloak, to match. She doesn't wonder where Jaime had gotten it; instead she dresses as quickly as she can.

_ "_Come with me, Cersei. To the free cities, where we can be together without anyone wondering who we are. We can make children in place of Joffrey and Tommen, and regain whatever we've lost. The free cities, where no one knows us and we can be lovers, not brother and sister. Please, sweet sister. I beg of you, say yes."

She'd said yes, this time. And he'd taken her quickly to the tunnels under the keep; emerging outside the castle unnoticed among the swarm of people running about, no doubt panicking. They'd then proceeded towards the harbor, where, luckily, there'd been a ship to Volantis. The captain hadn't asked who they were, what was important was they had has coin to pay for the journey and the room. And it was there Cersei had broken down; where grief took her whole as she realized that both her sons were gone and dead, never to come back. Jaime had held her then, as her body wracked with sobs and murmurs of grief. They'd then made love like never before—no, not fucking. Cersei had always liked to think of it as making love. Jaime thought it'd make her feel better, but it did not. She had spent the whole night with her eyes open and the feel of Jaime's seed inside her cunt.

The sail to Volantis was a long one. It had taken them at least a moon, but Jaime supposed it would have taken them lesser time if not for the storm that ravaged the ship two weeks into their journey. While sailing; all they did was fuck, eat, and sleep. Fuck, eat, sleep, and then fuck again; with Jaime occasionally climbing on deck to help with the crewmen. And while fucking did not make Cersei feel better, she was grateful for Jaime's effort. But nothing could ever relinquish the pain and grief in her heart as she thought about her children. Her gentle Tommen and her darling Joffrey, gone before their time. _Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds_.

And when they finally arrived at Volantis, Cersei was a shell of what she used to be. She hasn't brushed her hair, nor changed her clothes ever since embarking on the ship. She must've looked like a mess, but it mattered not. No one knew her—them, for that matter. To everyone, they were just two golden-haired lovers—not a knight and a queen, not brother and sister. Just Cersei and Jaime. She did not know where they would be staying, but she did not bother Jaime. She had been too grief-stricken to care, and Jaime had always said he had a plan, and that was what she relied on. After hours of wandering about in the city, taking whatever they had had with them—just a sack full of Cersei's jewelry, and her crown to boot—Jaime had told her that he had finally 'found a place.' And it turned out that the 'place' he had found was a mere, one-floored, white-bricked house, with two bedrooms and a kitchen. It was in the middle of the city, and all the other houses beside them were similar to it. It was a big change from what Cersei'd been used to—the house seemed to be as big as her solar in the Red Keep. It had all the necessities they'd needed—beds, chamberpots, a wooden chest inside one of the rooms, and a small table. It was a miracle Jaime found someone who spoke the Westerosi common language; and all the house costed them was one of Cersei's golden bracelets.

They had settled in afterwards, with Jaime finding a job in the City Watch and Cersei staying at home, figuring out a way to feed them both without burning the house—she had never in her life cooked, because she's always had servants to cook and serve her food. Cersei had not gotten over grief, but slowly, she'd been improving—with Jaime taking her as soon as he got home wherever it was convenient—on top of the table, on the floor, on the bed, against the wall, among others. Nightmares still plagued her, and she frequently woke up at night screaming death, but Jaime had always been there to comfort and calm her down. They had bought clothes suited to the Volantene weather, and much more of Cersei's skin was showing, much to Jaime's chagrin and Cersei's dislike. But they would have to adapt. They had sold Cersei's emerald ring and one of her lion necklaces to get coin to buy whatever they would need.

Cersei still fears Stannis would catch them, but slowly, that fear diminished and she had started going to the marketplace and taking walks around the city more and more. Both she and Jaime had started learning how to speak Bastard Valyrian-Cersei knew High Valyrian, having been taught the language when she was younger, but Jaime on the other hand did not. And Bastard Valyrian varied a lot from High Valyrian, anyways.

Two moons after they'd arrived, Cersei started getting sick: frailty and frequently throwing up what small amount she had eaten the night before. She dismissed it as the weather, but Jaime worried for her, thinking that her grief and distress was causing her sickness, and tried to make her happy as much as he could. Yes, grief still plagued Cersei, but she thought that it would plague her forever, anyways. The death of one child was unforgettable at best, but what about two? She had already resolved living the remainder of her life as normal as she could muster, trying not to let her grief take over her again because it was a sign of weakness. _And Cersei Lannister, by any means, was not weak._

Cersei finally decided on going to one of the maesters in town after Jaime convinced her to do so, after numerous pleading. The maester was said to ask cheap but offer good service, and people usually flocked to him whenever they had contracted some sort of illness, serious or not. Cersei prayed it wasn't something serious that would potentially destroy whatever life they already had, and, thank the Seven, it was not. But she did not know how Jaime would react—would he be happy; or would he force her to get rid of it? It was too early, and the pain of loss was still fresh in her heart.

She cooked whatever she could, and then waited for Jaime to come home. He'd kissed her tenderly when he had, and promised her another night of making love. He'd then sat and proceeded to eat—the food was edible at best, and it mattered not to Jaime as long as they had something on the table to eat. He told her all about what had happened that day, how one slave had been executed for stealing his master's coin. She remained quiet throughout the procession, and thankfully, Jaime didn't seem to have noticed it. They were about to finish eating when she finally mustered the courage to tell him and be done with it. It was now or never.

"I went to the maester in town this afternoon, Jaime," She started.

"Hmm? And what did they say, sweet sister?" He inquired.

"I-I'm not ill, Jaime. The maester said it was normal." said Cersei. "I'm with child, Jaime. Two moons, the maester had said."

And Cersei watched as Jaime's face changed from curiosity to one of joy. Thank the gods, Cersei thought. She did not know what she would've done otherwise. Another child to love and to cherish; Jaime's seed and the fruit of her loins. Another golden haired, green eyed beauty to look after them both. And this time, she'll do everything in her power so as not to put the child in danger; she'd offer her life before letting them touch even a strand of hair from her child. Jaime did not say anything, but instead stood up from his seat and pulled Cersei to him tightly.

"A girl or a boy, it matters not," He whispered. "I love you, Cersei."

"And I you, Jaime," said she. And all the sadness seemed to have slipped out from her heart then and there and had been replaced with pure, unadulterated joy.

Moons passed; and along with it, Cersei's stomach grew with child. And Jaime, having not been able to be a father to their other children, seemed determined to be one with this child. He'd talk to it often and caress it to feel the babe kick within her. He took care of her, and helped her even in menial tasks he knew she could do on her own. And they'd bet whether it would be a girl or a boy, although either would be fine. There was no pressure of having a son; not anymore. There was no more father to force her to mother a son if, in some case, she had had daughter instead. One thing was for sure: both of them would love it dearly, and all they really wanted was for it to be born healthy.

Nightmares still plagued Cersei frequently, and as her babe grew within her, so did her fear. Stannis Baratheon was now Westeros' new king, and was reported to have put a bounty on their heads if found. Their father, Tywin Lannister, was said to have allied with the Tyrells against Stannis. Robb Stark, the self-proclaimed King of The North, was said to be having a hard time managing his bannermen and rallying them against the enemy. Ally vs. ally, it was said, and due to their incessant and irrelevant fighting, Riverrun, his mother's home, was slowly being taken by the Lannisters. So was the Eyrie, and it was said that all Tywin Lannister's forces combined was enough to defeat Stannis and remove him from the throne. But Stannis Baratheon was already searching for them, anyways, and it would be a short amount of time before he finds them, especially with Varys' little birds lying about.

There are nights when she wakes abruptly and panics, hard. The nightmares are enough to make her weep; and were almost always about the babe growing inside her—Stannis catches them, and kills her and the babe; the child, already grown, killed by one of Stannis men out to find them. Going home to find Jaime and the child massacred. Being executed due to crimes of incest in King's Landing, with her child given as proof. The child killed right in front of her. She being raped and then killed, along with her child. Elia Martell's death, with only her as Elia and the babe as Aegon Targaryen; just like Tommen's death. She already loves the babe with her heart, even if it was yet to be born. She thinks it's a boy, Jaime thinks it's a girl. Jaime wants a girl; a little princess; another Cersei running about with golden curls cascading upon her back and green eyes shining with joy. Cersei wants a boy, another perfect little child just like her Joffrey, her baby boy.

Jaime always manages to calm her down, and sometimes—no, oftentimes—they end up fucking in order to help relieve Cersei's nerves. Jaime likes to feel the babe kick within her, and at times he even puts his face against her belly to feel the babe's movement. Although he does not say it, Cersei knows he already loves the child. She also knows that this is his first chance on finally being a father, and that he feels that he will not be a good one. But she tells him that he will; all the time.

Cersei spends the remainder of her pregnancy sitting by the window in peace, rubbing her belly to soothe the babe constantly kicking inside. She knows she'll spoil the child, give him or her whatever he or she would like. She can't bear to lose it, no: not another child. She thinks that she'll die if that happens. She knows she'll die. She's taken good care of herself to make sure that the babe is healthy, because she is not as young as she was and that means more harm might befall her and the child. Her stomach is heavy with child, and it is not long before she finally delivers it to the world. She is still afraid—her mother had died birthing Tyrion, and even if she's birthed three children, there was no surety that this child was going to come without complications. During one of her visits to the town maester, he's remarked that the birth might be a hard one, especially because the babe was big and Cersei was getting older, and that meant birthing the child was going to get harder.

The dreaded day has finally come, and, one night, Cersei wakes up with a slow, aching pain in her belly. She knows that this is it, due to birthing three children prior. She wakes Jaime up to tell him, and he frantically leaves after making sure that she's okay and goes out to call one of the neighbours. A midwife, she was; and she herself had presented to Cersei as soon as the bulge was noticeable. Loral, she was named. It takes her some time to get to their home, and by then the pains have intensified twice-fold. Loral checks her, and two of her assistants help her get ready.

"The babe is not too far along, but not too close to be birthed within the hour," She says in Bastard Valyrian, and Cersei's learned enough to understand what Loral has said.

They try to get Jaime out of the birthing room, for it is not a place for a man to be, but he refuses and Loral does not do anything about it furthermore. He is there the whole time, just like he had been with the three previous ones, and lets her hold his hand so that when the pains wrack her body, she can take it for support. She tries not to scream in pain, but some pains are intense and make her scream as loud as the bell tolls in the Keep. She looks down and sees that there is blood, and Jaime worries but Loral says that it is normal. Cersei thinks that she's going to die, but Jaime is there and gives her hope and helps her get through it. The sun starts to dawn, and that is when Loral shouts that the baby's head is close.

Cersei feels the pains intensifying even more; proving her wrong when she says that the pain could not be any more worse than it already is. She screams as she pushes the babe out of her cunt; tears form in her eyes, and Jaime holds her hand tightly with every push, until she feels something finally slipping out from her, and comfort comes. A baby's cry pierces through the room, and Jaime says "The babe, Cersei, the babe," with excitement and joy, but it does not register within her. Loral says the babe's gender, as well, but she doesn't seem to hear it. It has been a hard birth, almost as hard as Joffrey's had been, but when she sees the babe, all pain has been forgotten.

She holds the cleaned babe as Loral and her assistants help her through the afterbirth and clean her. She looks at the child, and tears form in her eyes once again as she sees how beautiful it is. Golden-haired, green eyed, with a little nose and a complete set of toes and fingers. The love she already has for the child multiplies, and she vows never to let any harm come to it as long as she breathes. She considers the child a new beginning, to make right all that she had done wrong with her other children. In the multitude of days she had spent while with child thinking by the window, she had realized that she had done wrong with Joffrey.

No, she will not treat this child like Joffrey. She'll teach it to do good and correct whatever it may do wrong, not encourage it even more to do evil. No, it will not be like Joffrey. The child will be perfect; with a good heart and nature, untainted unlike she and Jaime were.

Her thoughts are disrupted by Jaime speaking, and it is the first time she's noticed him there after the babe has come out.

"She's perfect, Cersei. Just like her mother," He remarks joyfully. "What should we name her?"

Cersei looks at the babe for a moment, and then comes up with the perfect name for her. "Joanna," She croaks. "She will be Joanna, after our mother."

Jaime then looks at her with the most joyous smile painted on his face, and nods. "Joanna," He whispers, testing out the child's name. And Cersei knows that in that moment, Jaime has vowed to protect the child just as she has. Cersei knows he will be a good father to her, and knows that he will love her as much as he loves her, even more so. And Cersei is grateful for that.

Years pass, and Joanna is two when she finds out that Jaime's seed has quickened in her again. She hopes that the child is a boy, and Joanna is ecstatic when she finds out. "Bwothew, mama?" She asks, and Cersei could cry. Joanna is very smart for her age, and can already speak a few phrases but has her 'R''s pronounced as W's. She lets Joanna call her 'mama', because there are no courtesies in the Free Cities anymore and she feels special every time her daughter calls her so. She does not see the need for them, as she and Jaime have vowed never to go back to Westeros. True to her word, she spoils the child; and Jaime does so as well. He's a great father to their child, and she could not ask for more.

Tywin Lannister is now the King of Westeros, and Margaery Tyrell is his wife. They already have an heir, a boy a two namedays old, as Joanna is three namedays. They are only a nameday apart, and it is queer to think that she and Jaime have another sibling aside from Tyrion, and that Joanna has an uncle younger than she. The child is named Tytos, and it is said that the Hand of the King, also his brother, spoils him very much so.

Cersei had found out from Jaime, and even if they can go back, she does not choose to. She's heard in the marketplace how the King of Westeros has put an even bigger bounty on their heads than Stannis had. She thinks that it's a miracle that they've not been found yet, but sometimes wonders that if they go back, they could look after Casterly Rock. Jaime is, after all, the rightful Lord of the Rock, as he is not a Kingsguard anymore but rather an exile. They can go back, but it will not be safe for their child. She is the proof of her parents' incestuous affairs, and the High Septon will have her killed as soon as the knowledge comes to them. Her father's put out a decree that if Jaime were to come back, he would be the Rock's ruler, and Tyrion would instead be Jaime's bannerman. Tyrion's agreed, because he thinks that it is enough to bring both of them back. But even if Jaime did come back, her father is not as dumb as to replace Tyrion with Jaime as the Hand, and Jaime does not want Tyrion's inheritance, anyways.

Joanna is three when her sibling is born. And just like Cersei had wanted, it was a boy; with the greenest eyes and the shiniest golden hair you'd think it was from the sun itself. Cersei and Jaime name him Tommen after his deceased brother, and vow to protect him from any evil just like they had done with his sister. Joanna had been elated; and by this time she'd already been speaking in full sentences. Cersei doesn't want to admit it, but she knows that Joanna's gotten her intelligence from her uncle, Tyrion. She's a perfectly normal little girl, and is almost always eager to accompany her mother out on walks. Very inquisitive, the little thing was; and sometimes asks the queerest questions even Cersei herself couldn't answer. Her daughter has grown so quickly she's begged the gods to slow down and let her enjoy her daughter's childhood.

Cersei is putting Tommen for his afternoon nap one day when Joanna, already four and her brother one, approaches her. The child can already read, and speaks both Valyrian and the Common Tongue. She frequently reads books sent to her by Tyrion; and she's almost finished them all. It did not come as a surprise to her when one day, a letter had arrived on her doorstep from her brother, Tyrion. While he did not tell her how he'd managed to find them, he had asked how they were doing; how their children were doing: he knows their gender, but not their names. Tyrion tells them about Myrcella, how he had visited her in Dorne a few moons back and she has already grown to look just like her mother. Their other daughter is happy with the Martells, and Doran treats her like his own. The Sand Snakes are friends with her daughter as well, and Tyrion says that this is the happiest Tyrion has seen Myrcella been.

She misses her daughter; her sweet, darling Myrcella. If only she could take her, she already would have. But she herself knew that Myrcella was better off with the Martells. And she also knew that if Myrcella knew about Jaime and her, she would have loathed them the rest of her life despite her sweet nature.

She and Jaime had decided to send a letter to Tyrion in reply; a short one in reply in order to let him know that they've received his message. She does not say much about their lives, only Joanna and Tommen's names, and that Joanna takes after him in intelligence. This, of course, delights Tyrion and afterwards, he does not send letters but instead sends books instead. Joanna loves them, and as soon as Cersei taught her to read, she has spent most of her time reading the books Tyrion had sent her.

"Mama?" Joanna calls, and snaps Cersei out of her reverie. Cersei smiles at her and then sits down by the chair near Tommen's crib. Joanna's been out, no doubt, and the long, golden curls that made up her hair were tangled and messy. She was also covered in sweat, no doubt after playing with the other children. Joanna smiles at her with her big, toothy smile in return and then climbs and sits on her lap. She's carrying a white bundle in her teeny tiny arms, Cersei has noticed, and is about to ask what was inside when Joanna spoke.

"I promise I'll clean after it and feed it and bathe it, Mama," She says so very quickly that Cersei doesn't understand what she has just said. Joanna then lets the white cloth fall off the bundle in her arms, revealing a grey-coloured, black-patterned kitten with hazel eyes.

"I found it in the streets on the way home," Joanna explains, and Cersei can only look. She begins to speak to say that Joanna wasn't going to clean after it, feed it, and bathe it, but she instead; but Joanna is talking again, and she does not bother disturbing her.

"I already have a name for it, Mama!" She exclaims. "I promise I'll take care of it. He's a boy, just like Tommen!"

Cersei tries to speak again when Joanna disrupts her. "Joa—"

"I'll name him Ser Pounce, Mama," Joanna explained. "Cats pounce, don't they? And he's going to be knight, that's why he's called Ser. Knights are called like that, aren't they, Mama? And Papa is one, isn't he?"

"Ye-yes, sweetling," was all Cersei managed to say, and she tries to block out the tears threatening to form in her eyes. Of all the names, why had Joanna chosen that specific name? Hadn't Tommen, her older brother, had the same name for his cat?

Her sweet; darling Joanna, as sweet as her sister Myrcella and as gentle as her older brother, Tommen, had been. She had had nothing of Joffrey, thank the gods old and new. She has not told her about her other siblings, because she feels that Joanna would not understand just yet. And she doubts that she'll ever tell her, because it would ruin everything she and Jaime had built. They are not frightened of going back, not anymore no, but they do not want to. They do not want to ruin the life they've built and how happy their children are.

"Can I keep it, Mama? Please?" Joanna begs, her eyes imitating just like a puppy's.

Cersei smiles and nods. She knows it will make her darling daughter happy, and she could never say no to her. "Yes, sweetling. You can. But you must clean after it, feed it, and bathe it like you promise, or else your Papa and I will be forced to give it away,"

"Yes, Mama! I promise," Joanna says and raises her right hand in a pledge. She then cuddles the kitten to her, pets him, and releases him to the ground, where the kitten quickly runs away, no doubt wanting Joanna to follow and play.

Jaime comes home that night after a day of patrolling the streets, sword in hand. They eat together, the whole family; and Joanna dominates the table, telling her father about her day; about how she found her kitten in the streets and decided on keeping him (under her mother's permission) and naming him Ser Pounce. Cersei had looked at Jaime then, and he in turn looked at her, possibly trying to see if that had somehow affected her. He knew she was still mourning for Tommen and Joffrey both, as she'd never quite accepted how they had died. Having Joanna and Tommen had relinquished the grief, because she'd always thought of them as a new beginning.

"That's very nice, Joanna," Jaime says, smiles, and pats Joanna's head. Cersei observes how Joanna smiles back in glee. Jaime looks at Cersei again, and immediately she knows that he has something to tell her. She wonders what it is. It can't be bad, Cersei thinks. It must be news from Westeros; something Jaime had no doubt learned from one of his fellow city watchmen.

Cersei washes the dishes after they finish eating. It's strange to think that she used to have servants to do her bidding before; and these kind of things were done by slaves. She puts Tommen to sleep, letting him feed from her before putting him down the cradle. She goes to Joanna next, sits on her bedside and reads her her favourite book; one that she insists to be read to her every night to make her sleep. She and Jaime take turns in doing so, and tonight is her turn. She tucks Joanna in, making sure that the cold doesn't seep in. She had insisted on sleeping with her new kitten, saying that 'Ser Pounce did not want to sleep alone.' She and Jaime relented and allowed her to sleep with the pussy cat, but only for the night. Tomorrow the kitten would be sleeping on the floor next to Joanna's bed.

When she was sure Joanna was asleep, she kissed her forehead and quietly slipped out of the room and into hers' and Jaime's. He'd been waiting for her, clearly that was sure.

"Took you long enough," He remarked, kissing her. Their tongues fought for dominance, with Jaime arousing Cersei more and more. He nipped her chin, going lower and lower onto her collarbones, where he put his mark. He ripped her dress off, and it pooled to the ground; glorifying Cersei's nakedness. She would have liked to hear what Jaime wanted to say, but she was too aroused at the moment to ask. It would come later, after they had made love.

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The night's affair had ended, with Jaime's seed spilling inside Cersei's cunt after each time he'd take her. She pays no mind whether or not it quickens inside her, Jaime would be glad if it does, anyways. Both of them would be. He loves both Joanna and Tommen, and wouldn't mind another child. The feel of Jaime's seed inside her delights her, and she turns to face Jaime, who looks back at her with pure adoration and love. They are both naked as their nameday, with only a wool blanket covering their bottom halves. Jaime's holding Cersei tightly against him; as if he was afraid that she'd leave him if he didn't hold her so. Cersei kisses him then, her tongue doing all the work; Jaime's tongue complying.

"I love you," says Cersei. Jaime smiles then, and kisses her forehead. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Daenerys Targaryen has taken over Westeros," Jaime says quietly. "Father is dead, and so is the Tyrell girl. Tytos was spared, the dragon queen took interest in him and decided on keeping him as her ward. They say that she loves children. She adores them."

Cersei does not say anything, and motions for him to continue.

"She's been ruling for over a week." He continues, "She's stopped the search for us. She's declared us exiles, and we're not to step foot in Westeros lest we want to get killed. Tyrion's in the Rock and has bent the knee. Daenerys has proclaimed Sansa Stark as the Queen in the North; making the North a separate country from Westeros itself."

She nods, and leans her head on Jaime's muscled chest. She cares not for politics anymore, just as long as her children—and she and Jaime, by extension—are safe. Kings may come and go, wars may start and end, but it is none of her concern: this is her new home. It may not be as grand or extravagant as the castles she had grown up in and was used to; but it was enough. She had learned to be happy with what she had had; no matter how simple. Never mind power, never mind the throne. What was important is that everything she holds dear is safe, and that was enough.

_It has been five summers since the Sack of King's Landing, and she does not regret what choices she has made since; because the happiness she now feels can last her a lifetime, and she could not ask for more._

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**I hope you liked it; please R&amp;R if you'd like. :-)**


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